


Hardwood Floors

by batwayneman



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BatCat, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, POV Alternating, so you'll have to use your imagination hat to fill in the blanks, this fic covers like 20 years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batwayneman/pseuds/batwayneman
Summary: Snapshots of Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne at parties through the years.
Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 127





	Hardwood Floors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LemonadeGarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonadeGarden/gifts).



> This is a gift for LemonadeGarden! I hope it brings you (and everyone else reading this) some entertainment during the quarantine, and thank you for the encouragement while I was writing this.

_Wayne Enterprise Fundraiser for Gotham’s Healthcare_

“Care to dance?” she interrupted the conversation with a smile, walking up to the men. They stopped talking, turning to look at her. She held her hand out to the younger of the two – Bruce Wayne.

“I– yeah sure,” Wayne replied, an easy smile on his face as he guided her towards the dance floor.

She looked him over as they walked. She supposed she could see why the tabloids were so enamoured with him. He had a classic profile; tall, black hair and blue eyes. Her eyes drifted.

Expensive watch. Understated but no doubt equally expensive cufflinks. The complete package.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said, putting his hand on her back – respectively high, to her mild surprise – and started to dance.

“Selina Kyle,” she smiled, tilting her head just so in a way that boys liked.

“Bruce Wayne.”

She laughed. She would have known who he was even if the stories hadn’t been following him like flies.

Bruce Wayne, pretty-boy bachelor, had returned to Gotham from who knows where. People were quite interested, and the rumours as to where he went had been… varied.

More importantly, as far as Selina was concerned, he was filthy fucking rich. And she had shown great restraint in waiting these past few months before seeking him out at a party.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said, “Everyone knows who you are.”

He smiled sheepishly, eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting her eyes again.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important,” she continued with a smile.

Wayne chuckled. “You didn’t. You actually saved me. He was just nattering my ear off about our pet vigilante.”

Now that was a surprise. Most people, even in rich circles like these, had been enraptured by the recent rumours of the existence of a Batman, but Wayne sounded disinterested, almost amused.

“You’re not interested in the Batman?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“To be honest Miss Kyle, I’m not convinced he’s real,” he said, with a half smile and a twitch of his eyebrows.

Selina hummed in consideration. It wasn’t an unreasonable opinion really; she herself had been unconvinced that Batman was real until an encounter just the other week.

“That’s quite a conspiracy theory. I suppose it does seem unrealistic that there is a man running around on Gotham roofs,” she finally said. It was difficult enough up there for her, and she was much lighter on her feet than Batman.

The song ended, but they stayed frozen together in the middle of the room. His eyes, she noticed, looked bright in the light.

“Oh, it’s not that,” Wayne said, “It just seems like a complicated story for the GCPD to make up, just to announce that they cant catch anyone themselves.” He reached down and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips gently. “Thank you for the dance Selina Kyle.”

He turned, and disappeared into the crowd.

Selina was frozen, rooted to the spot. Had he... meant to imply that the GCPD were absolutely useless at their jobs? She couldn’t tell if he had made the joke on purpose, or was just so rich the idea of being caught by them was laughable.

She stared in the direction he had left in. Bruce Wayne hadn’t been what she had expected of a young billionaire. She might have to do more research on him before setting up a heist.

* * *

_Fourth of July Gala_

“Have you heard of our new celebrity in town?” Selina asked in a way that would have been innocent if she hadn’t been smirking at him like _that_.

“No, who is it?” Bruce asked mildly, carefully staring at a spot over her shoulder. She wouldn’t get the satisfaction of eye contact if she was going to insist on this game.

It had nothing to do with the colour of her eyes, the way the green dress brought out the highlights in her hazel eyes. Not at all.

“ _Bruce Wayne_ , are you telling me you haven’t heard of the new superhero clique? The new gang? We even have our own Gotham rep, if you can believe it. You must be living under a rock.” He could hear the grin in her face, see her white teeth out of the corner of her eye.

“I must be,” he agreed. That one was a little closer to the truth, he had been sleeping off the bruises and sprains from the latest fight in a cot in the Batcave, as she had probably suspected.

She laughed, bright and sparkling. It was a little unfair how good she was at this. Teasing him in public without anyone the wiser.

“You know,” she started to speak when he suddenly spun her in time with the music. She, unfortunately, didn’t miss a beat. “Batman is a new celebrity around here. People have been going out at night doing _all kinds_ of things to try and see him.”

“Is that so,” he said, failing to keep the growl out his voice. He’d been trying to avoid them for the last week, hoping they’d get bored with a lack of sightings. “Doesn’t seem very smart, I’ve heard he’s quite ruthless.”

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort, but he ignored her.

“Besides,” he continued, “I think the point is to _not_ see Batman.”

She squeezed his hand and now, finally, he met her eyes. They were softer than he was expecting.

“That’s not true for everyone,” she said, voice just above a whisper.

“No,” he agreed, meeting her gaze with a slight smile, “I suppose not for everyone.”

* * *

_New Years Party_

“I think I should lead this one.”

Bruce turned around and looked at her, raising his eyebrows slightly in greeting. His eyes seemed more blue than she remembered, or maybe it was just the navy suit he was wearing.

“You want to lead this one,” he repeated, taking her outstretched hand in an implicit yes.

“Yes,” she nodded, “I never get the chance, and I want to set a tone for the new year.”

She looked up at him. The set of his mouth told her that he knew he was being mocked, but was willing to go along with it. It hit her again, in the gut, how much she had missed him during her time away from Gotham the past few months. It was almost alarming, the pull in her chest when he hadn’t been around. Less so now that she was here again.

She put her hand on his lower back and started guiding them around the room. It was, frankly, unfair that he didn’t so much as miss a step, even from the other position.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he finally said, after a few laps of the room. It sounded casual, might have even been casual if he was anyone other than who he was.

“Oh, you know how I like to keep myself busy,” she said airily.

“Hopefully not too busy,” he grumbled, and Selina smiled.

This was her favourite part of the game. The double entendres, the thrill of a secret, the words that only had real meaning to them.

They danced together – Selina leading – for a few minutes in a mostly-comfortable silence. A change in the music came too quickly for her liking, but maybe that was a good thing. Neither of them could afford to spend all their time with just each other at these events.

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

“Will I see you later tonight?” she asked, dropping her hand from his back.

He leaned in close, his lips nearly touching her ear. “That really depends on you Miss Kyle,” he whispered before turning and walking away.

Selina smiled at his retreating back. A yes, then.

* * *

_Gotham Museum Open House_

“Bruce! How have you been man?”

Bruce barely had time to register who was talking – Arnold Shefferd, CEO of one of Gotham’s manufacturing companies, ragingly incompetent – before Shefferd slapped his back in a parody of a familiar greeting.

Bruce automatically shifted his weight against the blow, and white-hot pain, originating from his knee shot through his leg, and he froze as he rode out the waves of pain.

In the second that he was frozen, fighting to not outwardly react, he cursed every single one of his life choices over the last few hours, from not dodging Riddler’s trap a few hours ago, to deciding to make an appearance at the fundraiser anyway.

In his defence, he hadn’t thought he had wrenched his knee _quite_ this badly.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Bruce said, once he was sure he had control of his voice.

“You know, it’s actually great that I ran into you, I’ve had some issues I wanted to pick your brain about. What would you do if –”

“So sorry to interrupt gentlemen, but I need to steal Bruce away for a minute.” Suddenly Selina was at his side, looping her arm around his firmly. He hadn’t even notice her approaching.

“Thanks _so_ much,” she said, turning and pulling him away, leaving a scowling Shefferd behind them.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed at him as she dragged him along.

“What.” He felt like he had whiplash, and he’d left his brain several steps behind him. Most of his energy was going into not limping.

“Oh god, did you hit your head too? I could see that your leg hurt from across the room. You can usually hide it,” she said quickly, still half-carrying him through the crowd.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically.

The look that she shot him over her shoulder would wither plants.

“Just sit down,” she said with a huff, all but pushing him onto one of the benches that lined the room. He sat back, taking pressure off his knee with a slow exhale.

Selina sat down beside him. One of her carefully curled strands of hair bounced off her collar bone.

“I can’t just sit here all night Selina,” he growled, watching the dancers from across the floor. It was too irregular for him, with no good excuse, to just sit on the sidelines. People would talk, and not in the way that benefitted him or the company.

“You’re not just sitting. You’re keeping your girlfriend company while she nurses a _terrible_ blister.” She reached down and cradled her perfectly fine ankle. “Ow,” she deadpanned with a smirk.

“Selina–”

“Nope,” she interrupted, “don’t thank me. The only thanks I want is to listen to Alfred ream you out for this later.”

He sighed, but leaned back against the wall, relaxing a little for the first time that night.

* * *

_Scholarship for Science and Technologies Fundraiser_

“Oh, it’s so beautiful Selina,” Mrs Manson cooed, holding Selina’s wrist.

“It is, isn’t it,” Selina said, for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. She usually liked showing off her jewels, but this had grown exhausting quickly.

She looked down at her own hand. It wasn’t like they were wrong, it was a beautiful ring, and she had reacted the same when Bruce had gotten down on one knee and shown it to her.

The gala crowd had fallen into the typical formation when an engagement was announced. Much like high school dances, the men were on one side, awkwardly congratulating Bruce, and the women were around her on the other, each trying to grab her hand and see her ring.

She looked across the room, searching for Bruce. She found him quickly, unmistakable in his presence. As if he sensed her eyes on him he looked over, meeting her gaze. He smiled, and she could practically see his face brighten from here.

She smiled back, hoping he couldn’t see how hollow it was.

Selina _may_ have been panicking a little.

Once the excitement of his proposal had worn off, the ring had gotten heavier and heavier, until it felt more like a trap than a gift. This jewel, unlike all of her others, wasn’t meant to be taken off after a party.

She knew that he had noticed something, in the last two weeks, because he held her closer, touches lingering more, which only made it worse. But he hadn’t asked about it, and she hadn’t had the courage to say anything.

Another woman grabbed her hand and she faked another smile, breathing out slowly through her gritted teeth.

It was just as well, maybe, that she couldn’t tell him about the fear that was choking her. She _knew_ him, and she knew he would think his own blind stubbornness and optimism alone could solve this. And when it didn’t, he’d be mad about his own perceived failure to make her happy.

She would lose him either way.

The ring was so heavy on her finger.

In this ballroom it was more apparent than ever what she had to do. She needed to leave, run, until she could breathe again. Tonight, or tomorrow morning at the earliest.

It would crush him. And she was selfish, because she didn’t want to be around to see that. She couldn’t, when it would be her fault. Better to do it this way, and make a clean cut of it, then prolong it the hurt for both of them.

She didn’t know what either of them had been thinking, thinking that they could work as something permanent.

* * *

_Spring Art Festival and Charity Auction_

“Oh- I, uh, didn’t. Hi,” she said.

“Hi Selina,” Bruce said slowly. He had recognized her from across the room, even after all the months between them, and her new haircut.

He knew she was back in town, but he hadn’t actually seen her since–

Well.

“You look good,” she said, and he watched shrug her confidence back on, overcoming her surprise of seeing him and straightening her shoulders.

“Your hair is different,” he said, and immediately wanted to swallow his tongue. That wasn’t what he meant to say.

Her hand jumped to her neck, touching where her hair used to hang. “Yeah, the long hair was too much of a hassle.”

“It looks nice.”

Selina smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m–” she paused, biting her lip, “I… I want to dance.”

He stared at her for a beat, before ignoring what she was going to say and accepting her outreached hand.

“How long will you be in town?” he asked as they swayed.

“I’m not sure yet,” she snapped, “It was just time to come back.” It was more defensive than Bruce expected.

He took a second to smother the anger that was churning in his gut.

“Well, you picked a good time. The city’s been… busy,” he grumbled. It had been a hard year.

“So I’ve heard,” she said quietly.

The rest of the song played in awkward silence. He wished he knew the words to fix whatever was left between them, or even just make tonight better, but anything he thought of got caught in his throat.

Their dance was technically perfect, with hands where they should be and their feet never missing a beat. But the places where she used to hold him were cold with the absence of her hands.

The song finally ended, and they both stepped back.

“Will you be out, later tonight?” she blurted out.

“No,” he replied. He would be undercover later tonight, at a betting ring that had been leaving people dead.

It wasn’t until several hours and conversations had passed that Bruce realized what she had really been asking, but by then it was too late.

* * *

_Halloween Banquet_

“What... are you wearing?” she asked.

It took all of Selina’a willpower to not smile as he turned around, revealing the full picture of the red cape and familiar blue outfit. And to think that she had been debating even attending the Halloween banquet.

“I lost a bet,” he said blankly. She had scarcely seen him look so grumpy in public.

“Clearly,” she said, looking him over. She supposed the Superman costume looked good on him, but it was too ridiculous to really look at. “Is it the real-” she cut off at the look on his face, deciding she didn’t need to know.

It was hard still, sometimes, ghosting around each other, avoiding raw edges.

“It looks good on you,” she finally said. It really did – regardless of if it was a real Superman suit it looked impressive, like he could fly away if he wanted too.

Though it might be more convincing if he would stop scowling.

He grunted before pausing, doing a double-take. “Did you, _actually_ , dress up as a cat?” The exasperation in his tone was even better than she had hoped for.

“A lioness,” she corrected, reaching up and playing with one of the ears from the headband she had thrown on.

“You drew whiskers on,” he deadpanned, and with a little thrill she recognized that he was fighting a smile.

Over the last few months things had gotten less awkward between them, but talking with him still felt tender in a way it never had before.

But this teasing felt more familiar, more _comfortable_ than she had felt in a while.

“Isn’t there a photo-booth at this place?” she asked. It had become popular, over the last few years, for the rich guests to take pictures of them in their costumes for the internet. She had other motives.

“Photo evidence was not part of the bet.”

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun!” She stepped closer, “I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” she purred, laying it on thick as she dared.

They stared at each other for a second before – finally – he huffed a laugh, dropping his shoulders. “Fine, fine. One picture. One.”

* * *

_Wayne Holiday Fundraiser_

“Selina?” Bruce asked, walking towards the figure slumped on the entrance-way bench.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were glassy, and her nose was red. Half of her hair stood up while the other half was flat against her head, like she had just rolled out of bed.

“I’m fine,” she said, looking away from him and rubbing her eyes.

“I didn’t say anything.” He reached out and touched the back of his hand to her forehead. It was hot like he expected, but not burning as he’d feared.

“You’ve got a fever. What are you even doing here?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” she dismissed with a half-hearted wave of her hand, “I won’t be long. I just have to steal something.”

Bruce paused, blinking. “I don’t think that is a good idea. You should probably be in bed.”

“I know, but I need to steal back the watch that he took,” she said, looking at Bruce he was the one being absurd.

“Maybe you should start at the beginning,” Bruce said, sitting down next to her.

She sighed. “There’s a family in the Bowery who was interested in selling a family heirloom. An old watch,” she paused, coughing into her arm, “I offered to connect them to a buyer, ‘cause the thing is worth thousands. I just needed a few days to hear back from my guy.”

Bruce nodded, listening. An old watch wouldn’t have interested Selina herself, but this wouldn’t be the first time she used her contacts to help people sell their antiques or jewelry fairly.

“I went back to talk to them yesterday. And fucking Keith Wild,” she spat the name, “went to them and told them it was only worth like, a hundred bucks! Bruce, it’s worth _thousands_.”

“So you’re going to steal it back for them,” he concluded, frowning. He knew Keith Wild - a self proclaimed philanthropist who was more talk than action. He would probably be showing off the watch, talking about how much he liked connecting with the “local people”, not caring that he had cheated them out of money.

“Yup,” she said, starting to stand up.

“Wait. If you promise to go to the Manor and get some rest,” he said slowly, “I will promise to… remove… the watch from Wild’s possession tonight.”

She stared at him for a beat. “You’re sure?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He knew what she was asking. It would be her first time at the Manor since she had called off the wedding.

“I’m sure.” He stood up and offered her a hand. “The driver can take you home, and I’ll meet you there later.”

“With the watch,” she clarified, but she took his hand and stood up.

“With the watch,” he agreed.

* * *

_Gotham’s First Responder Appreciation Night_

“This location is beautiful, isn’t it? It’s bigger than I expected!” Harriette gushed. A socialite who had recently married into the Gotham scene, and she would tell anyone who would listen how new the city was to her.

Selina wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation, if she was being honest.

“It’s a nice building,” Bruce agreed slowly.

Selina turned to look up at Bruce. His hair seemed to get more grey all the time, and wrinkles framed his eyes. It was unfair that he had only gotten more handsome with time. She grabbed his hand, rubbing one of the raised scars there.

It was a bad night. The Joker had been spotted south of the Narrows just an hour into the gala, and they hadn’t been able to find an opportunity to break away from the crowd.

“And it’s just as well that it’s uptown, with what’s happening tonight,” Harriette continued, sounding absolutely delighted to be a part of her first Gotham emergency.

Selina didn’t pause in her tracing of his scar, even as her stomach sank and clenched. She felt Bruce tense, muscles turning to steel next to her. People were in danger as they spoke and ate, and people were _entertained_.

“Yes, it is,” Selina finally said when Bruce didn’t say anything, mostly managing to keep the hiss out of her voice. She kept her fingers moving up and down over his thumb. She wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or for hers anymore.

“Oh, Isabella is here! Well, enjoy your evening,” Harriette said, rushing to excuse herself to greet her friend.

Selina looked up at Bruce. His jaw was tight, but she could see him starting to make a plan – she could practically see it in his eyes. She followed his gaze to a waiter carrying a full tray of champagne glasses.

She turned around, grabbing two from the server, and passing one to Bruce. He nodded at her, almost imperceptibly.

It was time to go.

Still hand in hand, they walked towards one of the larger groups in the room.

As they got closer, Selina started to sway and stagger like she was drunk, holding Bruce’s hand tighter to balance.

“Oops,” she said with a giggle, running into the man in front of her, letting the drink spill down his back.

The man cursed and spun around, clearly ready to yell before he recognized her and Bruce. The group laughed and rolled their eyes, pretending not to watch.

“Oh, it’s... fine,” he said in a barely restrained voice, angry red blotches on his face giving away how he actually felt.

“Ugh, I’m SO sorry about that,” Selina gushed, “I’m just so _tired_ ,” she whines, turning to Bruce, grabbing his hand with both of hers. “Can we leave babe? This party sucks.”

Bruce smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “Sure, let’s go,” he looked at the man, “Send me the bill for the dry cleaning,” he said with a smirk.

“You just let your girl tell you what to do?” the man said with a smirk of his own, trying to save whatever grace he still had.

Bruce froze, scowling at him the way he rarely did outside of the cowl.

“She’s my partner,” he said coldly, “Of course I’m going with her.”

Bruce brushed by him, hitting him none too gently in the shoulder. Selina, still holding his hand, trailed behind him, slightly dazed.

 _Partner_. She knew a large part of it was the stress of the night, which always seemed to free Bruce’s tongue, trying to play the part that would let them leave as soon as they could.

But still.

They left the ballroom, turned down a few hallways. She almost had to jog to keep up with his long stride.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

“I’ll have them bring the car around. I’ve got a safe-house 6 blocks away, I’ll change there, then I’ll–”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Selina said, pulling him to a stop, “Who is this _I_ you’re talking about?”

He looked at her, eyebrows furrowed. Puzzled, underneath the tense stress. She resisted the urge to sigh. The whole night they’d been acting as a team, and he still hadn’t figured out that she was as involved in it as he was.

“I’m obviously coming with you,” she said. He didn’t say anything, just looking at her. She reached up, putting her hand on his cheek. “Bruce, you’ve _got_ to start putting me in those plans of yours,” she said softly.

His face cracked, and softened. He reached up and grabbed her hand, kissed her palm and intertwined their fingers.

“Yeah. Yeah, OK. Let’s go.”

* * *

_The Party_

“Oh good, you’re here. I got the mail, I’m going to open it,” Selina said from the other room. He could hear the sound of her throwing the letters on the table.

“It’s a federal crime to go through someone else’s mail,” Bruce said casually from his place on the couch. He could hear her snort from the other room. He smirked slightly, flipping a page in his report.

“Oh, damn it!”

He paused, waiting. Sure enough, Selina appeared in the doorway. Her hair was windswept, and the strings from her hoodie were uneven. She looked so beautiful.

“We got the date for the museum fundraiser,” she said, holding up the offending envelope in her hand.

He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow.

“They picked – get this – July 22! The bastards.”

Ah, well, that explained her frustration at least. They’d chosen the date for their vow renewal months ago. Their family and friends had been happy to hear about their spur-of-the-moment elopement (the general sentiment had been “Finally!”), but everyone wanted to be part of an actual ceremony. July 22nd had been chosen 4 months ago.

He put his report down, stretching his arm across the top of the couch.

She walked over and sat down next to him, tucking her feet up on a cushion, rather than collapsing. Even when dressed a mess and not caring, she was always so graceful.

“The _one_ day,” she said, showing him the date in the envelope. It was a little blurry without his glasses.

“We’ll send them an apology note with a large cheque.” They wouldn’t be told why they couldn’t make the fundraiser, but a few million would probably be enough for them to not care.

“Well obviously,” she said, “But it’s like the one fundraiser that I actually like going to.”

Bruce put his arm around her shoulders. “No, you like walking through the museum planning how you would steal the exhibits.”

“What’s the difference?” she grinned, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, “and don’t act like you don’t think about how bad their security is while you’re schmoozing around.”

He huffed, mouth twitching in a half smile. She wasn’t wrong.

“Ah well,” she said, flicking the invitation onto the table and moving closer to him, “our party will be better anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Look, in my defence I wrote the section with sick Selina before the literal global pandemic (yes, it took me that long to finish this). Please don't follow her lead– instead of going to parties to steal watches, just stay at home.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, leave a comment, and come find me on [ tumblr](http://batwayneman.tumblr.com), same username as here.


End file.
